Ever Changing Circumstances: PartBook II
by Gabigail
Summary: Three months following New York


Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and its characters are the creation of Jeff Davis and are copy written under CBS (as far as I can tell). No infringement upon their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: This story picks up and will continue where the Ever Changing Circumstances series left off.

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—Quantico, Virginia—  
—Summer: Three Months Following New York— 

It truly was a beautiful day— there wasn't a cloud, not even the light, wispy, fluffy, cotton candy like version that would sometimes hang in the sky as the sun shimmered brilliantly in the cornflower blue afternoon sky. Elle couldn't help but feel happy as she walked into the grocery store and quickly flipped her sunglasses on top of her head as she grabbed a shopping cart and pulled the list from her purse. After she got the call from Hotchner that they would be returning that evening, she decided to plan a romantic evening for Gideon and herself. Hmm, she thought as she stood in front of the meat counter looking over the offerings. The gentleman behind the counter quickly assisted her and she was on to the next isle to find the ingredients needed for the meal as well as a few other things. Once her shopping was complete, Elle took the cart out to the parking lot and unloaded the bags into her trunk. Oh no! She thought as she realised that she had forgotten to pick up something for dessert. I'll have to stop on the way home at the bakery— she climbed into her car and carefully navigated her way through the busy parking lot onto the even busier street. Everyone must have had the same idea— a beautiful day to be out and about. She watched as children and their parents were out on bikes, walking with dogs and rollerblading. The bakery wasn't too far from her flat and she quickly parked the car and almost ran inside.

Elle had known the family who owned the bakery since she moved to Virginia and she smiled when Annabelle, the youngest daughter turned around to help her.

"Hey Elle! How may I help you?" her bright smile contagious.

"You and your family are well I hope."

"Oh yes. I've just received my acceptance to the University of Virginia." She beamed happily.

"Congratulations." Elle smiled and then turned her attention to the pastries in the cold case. "What program will you be enrolling in?"

"Medicine. My father wanted me to enrol in business, but I've always excelled in the sciences. Business has always been a struggle for me." She turned away for a moment and grabbed a small box. "Father told me about your new boyfriend. I think Strawberry Millefoli would be the perfect accompaniment for whatever meal you have planned for this evening." She carefully lifted the pieces from the case and placed them in the box.

"How did he?" Elle's expression matched her tone very well.

"He has his ways." Her warm smile widened. "It's so good to see you happy." She carefully placed the gold sticker to keep the box closed and put it in a plastic bag. Elle dug her wallet from her purse. "No charge." She whispered.

"Thank you." Elle took the bag and made her way back to her car and home.

With loud music to keep her company, Elle happily prepared the evening's surprise meal. A glass of wine in hand, she read through the instructions and carefully combined the ingredients then placed them into a large saucepan, she stirred over very low heat. The telephones shrill ring interrupted and she grabbed the towel to wipe her hands and the remote to turn off the music.

"Hello."

"So good to hear your voice." He sounded tried, but his tone uplifted nonetheless. "We're on our way home."

"How about I make dinner?" he loved to hear the lightness in her voice— couldn't keep himself from daydreaming. He could see her soft smile that he heard in her tone.

"That sounds wonderful," he always enjoyed the ease of their conversations, "I'll see you around seven?" he glanced at Hotchner to be sure that he would be able to get away.

"Seven is fine." There was a short pause and he could sense a question, in fact, he knew exactly what she wanted to ask. "Are you okay?" he took a moment— thought he could hear a bit of her smile fade.

"Yes, I'm fine." He chuckled softly. "See you later." He waited for her to cradle the phone before he pressed the end button— he knew that once he pressed that button, he would once again have to direct his attention to the debrief that was already in it's early stages of possible completion.

With the final touches added to the table, she grabbed a CD that she had burned earlier just for them. A collection of soft, breezy jazz pieces mixed in with some newer artists. She grinned and quickly went to her bedroom to change— she wanted tonight to be special. The phone rang as she emerged from her bedroom and she told the concierge that he could send Gideon up. A quick glance at her hair in the hall mirror, she felt the butterflies of anticipation in her stomach and lightness as she felt herself float towards the door at the gentle knock.

"Look at you." He whistled with a smile of approval, and held a bag towards her. "Beautiful, as usual." He drank her in— admired how her summer dress hugged and fell away from her body was sheer perfection.

"Thank you." She accepted the bag and took his hand. "Voila!" he pulled her to him and kissed her hair.

"My have you been busy." Her face beamed.

"Would you like to have a seat in the living room, dinner isn't quite ready yet." He followed her into the kitchen and got the bottle opener from the drawer while she pulled two glasses from the cupboard. He poured the wine. "Cheers." Was said in unison and Elle turned back to the dish. Gideon sat at the kitchen table and watched as she finished putting everything together.

"Are you sure there isn't anything I can help you with, my dear?" he had stood and had wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Everything is fine." She allowed herself to lean against him for a moment. "Actually, it's done." He let her gently break away from his embrace and helped her take the meal to the dinning room. Everything was absolutely perfect, neither could have asked for a better moment.

"Hang on for a second." Gideon pulled his cell phone from his pocket and turned it off. "There will be no interruptions this evening." Elle smiled brightly and they enjoyed their meal.

"I stopped at the bakery on my way home today and picked up something special for this evening." She stood and cleared away some of the dishes while Gideon helped.

"Really?"

"Yes, Annabelle thought that it would accompany our meal. Would you care for tea or coffee?" she set the plates in the sink and rinsed them off quickly before putting them into the awaiting dishwasher.

"Tea would be perfect." He replied and found himself wrapping her up in his embrace once more. "I've missed you." He murmured in her ear and kissed her graceful neck. Elle turned within his embrace and captured his lips with hers. He loved the way her kisses were like the softest, most velvety of petals that she tenderly pressed over his; then gently pulled way before sweeping them over his once more. In response, he closed his eyes and when he deepened the kiss he mused at how it tasted like fine dessert— sweet like honey, he mused as he allowed himself to become swept up within the wonder— the heightened sensations, the mutual tenderness, and the emotions of the moment. A moment he thought could have been so easily lost to him. How was it that he now found himself so lucky? He mused as they parted and he drank her in with his inquisitive eyes— noticing the air of mischief reflected in her dark eyes. Long forgotten, her letter of resignation— now quickly replaced with the thought of how much time had been wasted in their being apart. Then there was the wonderfully serendipitous manner in which their paths crossed. It had been a chance encounter that was fit for the silver screen— a wonderfully unexpected circumstance that, lucky for him, had resulted with Elle now wrapped within the safety of his embrace. He inhaled deeply.

"Jason, the tea is ready." She gently unravelled herself from his arms and turned to prepare the tray. Getting the dessert from the refrigerator, she placed the slices on dessert plates and onto the tray. They went into the living room and she turned the music back on and they ate their dessert and enjoyed the tea.

"Annabelle was right— this really is fantastic." He licked his lips, missing a bit of strawberry cream. Instead of telling him that he missed a spot and try and explain where it was, Elle leaned in towards him and quickly kissed him, which nabbed the cream in the process. She leaned back and licked her lips.

"I'll have to keep that in mind for next time." She hardly had the chance to finish her sentence that Gideon had her wrapped up comfortably in his arms once more. He inhaled deeply, memorising the scent that was entirely her— an exotic medley of soft scents that went from the herbal shampoo she had used to the light, yet equally intoxicating fragrance she wore— a mixture that had he closed his eyes, he would still be able to know it was her. As he teased the sensitive skin of her long neck, he stole another moment to slowly inhale the soft mixture. In response to his caresses, she ran her hands up his arms and along his broad shoulders lightly, featherlike, then hooked her fingers behind his strong neck before gently cupping his face within her hands and then drew her lips back to hers. She then gently ran her slender fingers down his neck towards the buttons of his soft, cotton shirt.

He murmured something into her soft, thick, curls as she continued to expertly work the shirt buttons, which revealed the short sleeved t-shirt that she knew was artfully tucked within the waistband of his faded blue jeans. Blue jeans that hugged his soft body to perfection. Elle ignored his whispered inquiry, her grin only widened with mischief as she returned her gaze slowly to his eyes and continued to pull at the offending article of clothing. Finally successful in her endeavour, she freed the shirt tail and with it, the cotton t-shirt underneath. When she released the fabric, both fell freely over his hips.

"Elle." A low moan rather than the intended protest erupted from his lips, which stopped her only for a moment. She tilted her head to the side; her wavy hair fell gracefully over her shoulder. She slowly looked up from under long, thick lashes and then captured his attention with such an intense gaze— it was clear to him that she knew exactly what he had been thinking. She had, after all, been a profiler long enough to still have the ability to read people.

"I'm okay." Her words were nearly lost in his tender kiss— she freed him of his shirt as he allowed his fingers to brush down the smooth skin of her delicate neck and slowly began to play with the collar of her dress. He slowly undid the buttons and pulled at the tie before parting the silky fabric and sliding it down her toned arms— it fell to the floor in a multi-coloured pool at her feet, joining his shirt. He immediately brought his lips to her pulse point— the rush of her heartbeat under his lips sent a shiver throughout him.

With the cell phone off, Gideon could take the time he wished with her. Reasons there were many— the first of which was they had yet to cross that preverbal line. Granted, they had shared a bed in his hotel room— but under the circumstances he refused to take advantage of her. The second pertained to the simple fact that in her past, her first experience had likely been a traumatic one, which past lovers probably wouldn't have been as sensitive to her need for tenderness, her need for care, her need to feel safe— all of which he wanted to be the one to provide her with. There were more reasons; however, the third is where his mind appeared to stop. The third, and perhaps his most selfish reason, was that he just wanted to enjoy the way she felt tucked lovingly and with such ease within his embrace— the way she snuggled herself against him was so effortless. The moment just felt so right.

They would not be interrupted by a call from the BAU. He would not be pulled away as he had the last time they had found themselves so close after they had retuned from New York— this time they would have the opportunity to enjoy the moment. He swept Elle up in his arms, her body pressed against his as they made their way through the flat to her bedroom. Ever so gently, he laid her across her bed and kissed, and caressed her soft, smooth body as she ran her hands up and down his body as if learning and committing to memory the planes and contours. She paused when her fingers felt the taught skin of a scar. He gently took her hand in his and kissed it before lowering his head to her neck and worked down the elegant line towards the still-fading scar on her chest. She attempted to protest, but he placed a finger on her kiss swollen lips and tenderly kissed the scar, then worked his way back up to her lips. Her soft moan was affirmation enough and the passion took over. It was gentle, just as he had intended— he kept her safe and with his weight comfortably covering her, she happily let go. Let go of her hang ups, let go of her inhibition and finally allowed herself to truly feel what she hadn't felt in a very long time— love. With her pulse still racing, she pulled back the covers and they settled themselves underneath, he held her within his strong, protective embrace— his arms wrapped comfortably around her and she snuggled herself against his body, resting her head on his chest— pressed her ear against his steadily beating heart.

—F. B. I. Behavioural Analysis Unit, Quantico, Virginia—

Hotchner sat at his desk and cradled the phone with a loud sigh.

"He's not answering his phone?" Prentiss inquired from the doorway. Hotchner looked up and his expression told her all she needed to know. "Sir, he needs a break. We all need a break."

"That's not the point. We're supposed to be on call." He ran his hand down his face. "I know how difficult these past few months have been— on all of us; however, this doesn't excuse."

"Isn't he teaching?"

"We could still use his input." He sat back in his seat and watched as J.J., Morgan, and Reid briskly walked past his office towards the conference room. "I'll give Elle's number a try."

"Okay, we'll see you in a bit." Prentiss headed off to join the rest of the team in the conference room.

Elle's head shot up the moment of the first ring. Gideon sighed and tried to prevent her from answering by tightened his grip around her.

"Hello?"

"Elle, is Jason with you?"

"Yes, may I ask why?"

"Well, we have another case."

"Feels like a full moon." She quipped and held the phone towards Gideon, whose sleepy, perplexed expression changed the moment he read her lips.

"Gideon." He put on his professional tone.

"We need you to come in. We have another case."

"I'm teaching this semester."

"I've already notified your replacement until we return."

"Greatly appreciated." He joked. He had been looking forward to teaching a semester because he thought that it might grant him a moment for some 'normalcy'. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He handed Elle the phone and in one swift movement tossed the covers off and began the search for his clothes. Elle grabbed her silk housecoat and quickly cinched it around her waist. Gideon quickly dressed, Elle made sure not to entice him to stay, even though she would have loved to awaken encircled within his arms the next morning.

"I'll call you." He kissed her passionately and she felt herself melt.

When Gideon arrived at Quantico, he quasi-jogged towards the elevator that, via his pass card, would grant him access to the building— it saved his having to walk through the parking lot to the front doors and end up having a drawn out conversation with the night watchman, who called himself Woody. While generally speaking, Woody was entertaining with his clever anecdotes, Gideon didn't feel that he had the time; for he felt the sooner they took off to wherever it was they had to go— the sooner he would be home. Once Gideon stepped off the elevator, navigated his way through the darkened hallway towards the double glass doors that led to the bullpen— he slipped into his office while he removed his jacket and hung it on the vacant hook of the coat rack that proudly stood behind his door. He then gathered his thoughts and headed for the conference room— the only room, besides Hotchner's office, that held a strong glow of florescent lighting, which could be seen poking through the blinds and pooling on the floor just outside the 'glass wall'.

As he noticed that the team was already deep in conversation, Gideon waited for a moment before making his presence known. Their potential un-sub had been very busy murdering young women. The only thing that they appeared to be hung up on was the fact that they could only describe the un-sub as a serial copycat; however, with one twist, if one could even refer to it as such. His killings were in a mad unorganised frenzy that happened to result in the most intricate recreation of crime scenes from the past. He had artfully arranged each victim precisely as his predecessors. Like the BTK, he had managed to cut all lines of communication— clipped the land line and would smash their cell phones so that there would be no interruptions. Another serial killer that this un-sub had been busy emulating was the Keystone Killer— who would artfully bind the delicate wrists of his victims together; only this time he left not just the customary taunt of the word search puzzle behind, but something a tad more personal. A direct quotation from Max Ryan's book— a direct shot towards Gideon. It had become clear to him that the team had already worked out a rough profile— and contently watched J.J., as she stood behind Reid's chair, bent over his shoulder, her long straight blonde hair in a sleek pony tail that fell over her shoulder while she read the file that he held in his hands. His gaze then turned towards Prentiss and Morgan whose minds both appeared to be working through the information and forming a profile of their un-sub. Hotchner was frantically jotting ideas, his mind, no doubt working faster, triple time, than his hand could record his thoughts.

"So far as we know— there are at the very least sixteen known connected cases that span, at the very least, a little over a year and a half." J.J. straightened at Gideon's arrival and placed a hand on her slender hip before a curt nod and turned to jot an idea that Reid had whispered in her ear on the fresh whiteboard. Gideon acknowledged her as well as the rest of the team before seating himself comfortably beside Hotchner.

"This couldn't have waited until Monday morning?" he failed to suppress the yawn the exhaustion that was written across his face— the effects of their emotionally draining case in New York. The only thought on his mind was the wish to crawl, fall— he didn't quite care which into bed and sleep soundly until Monday morning. Hotchner shook his head in disagreement.

"It's us, or McDonald's team."

"This isn't a competition you know?" a cold bite to his tone actually sent a wave of shivers through his team members.

"Gideon chill." Morgan lifted his head from the back of his hand and rubbed at his slightly red eyes. "We're all tired and extremely stressed. Look, even I thought that we would at the very least have the weekend to re-coop. I'm still getting over the whole Elle thing myself." He sighed and picked up the pen that sat on the scribbled page in front of him.

"Sir, after everything that we have been through, I can absolutely understand where this stems from."

"Prentiss, I would advise you not to continue this conversation." He nearly growled as he stood and left them in desperate need of the cup of coffee he hadn't taken the time to stop for on his way to the briefing.

He couldn't help but be glad to find that the coffee maker had been cleaned by the night staff— probably to be used Monday morning. Gideon mechanically measured the correct amount of crystals and with a quick flick of his wrist dumped them into the awaiting filter. A loud sigh was heard from just beyond the threshold of the makeshift break room— a cramped, dark corner that was tucked away for the sole purpose of coffee and maybe something to eat if one were lucky. Everyone knew that there was a cafeteria, but none, he included had ever taken the time to venture down to the ground floor, except to make a hasty exist.

"Jason," he turned around at Hotchner's voice, "you're wound up far tighter than I have ever seen you. What's on your mind?" Hotchner stepped further into the ill lit space, yet knew enough to keep his distance. Gideon slowly turned around and quasi-leaned, propped himself against the counter and held onto its edge as if holding himself up.

"We've been constantly on the go." He fibbed. Hoped that would somehow pacify his colleague— his friend.

"Nice try."

"If I tell you what you want to hear, will you get us on that plane, on that case and finished any faster?"

"That's the worst case of magical thinking that I've heard in a long while." A slight chuckle followed. "It has nothing to do with being called in, so much as who it stole you from." A nod and Gideon turned away to pour the coffee. He opened the refrigerator, picked up the cream— gave it the quick sniff test then added a touch and stirred it with a clean spoon. He took a gulp. It was hot and bitter— and oddly left his tongue wanting more. "I know how horrible this is going to sound— but I do know how you feel." He was right and Gideon knew it.

"Well then let's get this bastard." He followed Hotchner back to the conference room— Hotchner hung back and watched as Gideon moved to pull his cell phone from his blue jeans pocket. A gentle tap and a glance said all that needed to be said. "I'll call her from the plane." Hotchner nodded gently.

"Garcia will be brought up to speed once we arrive and have settled in. They headed out of the conference room— bearing the various FBI cardboard files and some newer clear plastic envelopes in hand.

Once they had somewhat settled themselves— took their seats, the snaps of seatbelts being fastened echoed throughout. Reid suddenly cleared his throat.

"Why exactly are we even going?" was heard by Gideon and Hotchner at the rear of the plane. J.J. sat beside Reid— as she often did, while Morgan and Prentiss sat across from them at the table.

"Well I suppose that in many ways they are dealing with a BAU issue— a serial killer with the oddly un-'unique' signature of being a copycat." Was Hotchner's reply. Reid allowed his gaze to fall back towards Gideon, who sat in his seat with his cell phone nearly attached to his ear, speaking in a hushed tone so that no one could hear his conversation.

—Chicago—

Once they landed, the team unceremoniously gathered their bags and were driven to the hotel where the detectives had agreed to meet them in one of the various conference rooms— both parties had agreed that it would save precious moments in travel time, which would therefore allow them to quickly ditch their overnight bags and assemble in the conference room. There was a large, oblong table placed neatly off centre, so that the sofas and arm chairs fit at the other end of the room near the door— the coffee table that sat in front had magazines neatly laid upon the tempered glass top. The bright room also offered the needed whiteboards for them to write notes or tape photographs on. The brainstorming part of the job was always the most interesting aspect, which in this case even more so as they weren't bombarded with the local authorities preconceived opinions that would usually be posted— leaving the team with the task of piecing together the various unseen parts of the puzzle. The younger agents were eager to get started and were quick to settle themselves around the table and pulled out various files that contained photographs, notes, and reports— as well as their own notepads or books. J.J. grabbed an erasable marker and starting writing the main threads between the cases they had established on the flight— which by all accounts wasn't really much.

It wasn't long before the detectives joined the team, settled themselves at the other side of the table and followed suit— they eagerly unpacked their needed evidence, notes, pads and pens. Gideon didn't want to mope, especially after speaking with Elle, so he found his rhythm and threw himself into his work as he often did— his only refuge other than his cabin. He took the photographs Morgan held in his hands and posted them on the furthest whiteboard, then collected a few from the detectives and pressed them against the hard surface of the opposite board. J.J. watched— her expressive features deep in thought as she uncapped the coloured marker and began to draw a line from one photograph, connecting it with another and then another— she circled a phrase that had been jotted on one of the boards then picked up another colour and did the same with another photo.

"Could it be a possibility that our un-sub is a teen?" Prentiss' lips twitched slightly in thought as she eyed a few of the photos. "I mean, all of the victims were found in various poses— yet if one were to look at the crime scenes themselves you would see that his actual method is highly unorganised."

"A frenzy of inflicting blunt force trauma, there are countless ligature marks, hacked off digits, mutilated and disfigured bodies." J.J. spun around so quickly and violently that her pony tail whipped around and the ends slapped her cheek— her slender hand flew up to the site and she gently touched the sting with her finger tips. With pursed lips, Reid glanced up from the file he held and thought for a long moment.

"Do we have any photographs of the victims prior to their murder?" one of the detectives nodded, pulled out a file and held it up towards him. Reid took the file and pulled out the photographs.

"By the way, I'm Detective Wayne Crooke." Reid nodded and fanned the photographs on the table in front of him— the names of the girls were written on them in black marker. Reid then began to tape them up beside the crime scene photos.

"This makes a bit more sense now." A smirk worked its way over his lips. J.J. stood and examined the pictures.

"Well, right here is the cheerleader." Her comment low as she posted the photos of a young woman— a honey blonde, stood smack dab in the middle of the cloister of teenage girls, all in deep royal blue and silver uniforms. "The homecoming queen," she added the photo beside the mangled body of another victim— she was a brunette with long wavy hair that sat with a young man on a fallen tree in the woods on a warm, sunny, summer day. Next to that, she added another photograph of a woman in her early to mid twenties— she had her fiery red hair locks caressed, blowing in a fan created breeze, her pose; one of a model for her call card. "The model— and this looks like it might be the rich, you know what." She taped another photo of a striking black haired woman, her gold jewellery shimmered in the bright sunlight while she sat wrapped within her husband's arms. "From these photos, it would appear that the un-sub has some major issues with social class." Everyone in the room took a collective, much-needed breath.

"There is that and it would appear that beauty also appears to be quite the theme as well." Gideon interjected and crossed his arms in thought. J.J. turned around and nodded her agreement before she tucked a loose blonde strand back in its place behind her ear. "What's the stressor?" his question nearly a whisper as Hotchner stood to examine the blaring linkages between the victims.

"Reid, you and J.J. begin with an examination of the victimology." They nodded in unison. "Here, takes these files. Morgan and Prentiss will begin with these." He turned towards Gideon, who appeared to the officers to be lost in his own thoughts while he stood and stared at the boards— the looks upon their faces was priceless as though they had never seen anyone become so internal when it came to a case. "I nearly forgot. Detective Crooke, you'll work with Morgan and Prentiss— Detective Walsh with J.J. and Reid." The detectives silently agreed and one group moved to the sofas and arranged themselves around the elegant glass topped table and opened the first of the files. Morgan slowly opened a file and they quickly began to bounce ideas off one another while Prentiss quickly jotted concepts and any main themes and easily identified connectors that they could establish.

The detectives found themselves captivated by the way Gideon appeared rather unaffected by the level of cruelty the un-sub inflicted upon his victims; and how he continued to hang back and took his time to soak up the information that they now had assembled on the various whiteboards. The various notes taped beside the photographs, written by the hands of those working the cases— some of which had begun to grow cold, with very little evidence available.

"The un-sub had carefully set the scene— he had to have taken his time," all eyes rested on Gideon, who clasped his hands together as he often did when deep in thought— "he has to know that he has the time to spend with his intended victims; time to spend in recreating the proper scene. Thus far, it would be fairly safe to conclude that he hasn't begun to de-evolve."

"What? That's a big if. You may want to subtract the fact that there is probably a young woman going through hell at this very moment." The group turned their gazes to Prentiss, who wore her usual sour expression— an expression that matched her monotone. "At this point, I would suggest keeping our part of this investigation totally out of the spotlight. I would hedge a bet to think beyond our regular method." She stood and gracefully moved towards one of the boards. "See this?" she pointed at one of the photographs, "and that?" slowly Morgan stood as J.J. followed with Reid not far behind. Gideon had long ago noticed her point, yet continued to hold back— allowing the other members to get a better feel of working together without his lead.

"He not only disfigures his victims, but he then redresses them in clean clothing and carefully recreates very specific crime scenes."

"Well, he obviously lacks his own identity." Gideon's comment was just caught by Hotchner, who appeared to step up to the foreground.

"Unable to find a way to stick out— he carefully used the models of those who have been successful in the past." Gideon nodded at Hotchner's addition. Reid stood just beside J.J., one arm wrapped around his lean torso while he rested his elbow on his forearm and rubbed his chin in thought.

"This still doesn't quite accomplish that." Their attention caught by his voice, they turned their heads to show that they heard him. He paced slightly as if forming his thoughts into words. "I mean, so what? It's already been done—and probably then some." He glanced at the watch he wore on the outside of his long sleeved shirt. The others found themselves also checking the time before realising how long they had been at it.

"We ought to break for the night." Gideon moved to gather the folders and the detectives followed suit, as did the rest of the team.

"The hotel has given us pass cards for this conference room, so we won't have to pack everything up." Detective Crooke stood and handed the pass to Hotchner, "thought it would be easier for you guys. We'll meet at the coffee shop?" Gideon nodded quickly and took a quick look at the room.

"I didn't want to say anything with them here." He closed the door and turned to the team. "We're going to carefully organise the boards." Morgan whipped out his cell phone and started to click away at one of the boards.

"I'm sure that Garcia would like to see this." He snapped away and Prentiss sighed loudly.

"Didn't think to bring my camera and my cell phone doesn't have the crispness." She walked over to the board that he had just finished photographing.

It wasn't long before they had the clippings, notes, and photographs in neatly labelled files. Morgan and Reid each took a handful each and the team filed out of the room, turned off the lights and closed the door behind them. The same intense tension was felt amongst them and they remained quiet— most likely due to the fact that they were probably still internally working through the information. The girls, J.J. and Prentiss went into their room while the men continued down the long airily decorated hallway. Reid and Morgan found their room and Reid placed his handful on top of Morgan's and slipped the card into the awaiting lock.

"Goodnight."

"Seven sharp at the coffee shop." Gideon's eyebrow cocked in a serious fashion, his stare fixed on Morgan.

"You know as well as I do that it was Mr. Hollywood over there with his damn hair!"

"Keep digging there Morgan." Hotchner taunted over his shoulder as they continued down the hall. They stopped at their door and he waited for Gideon to open it. "You're not going to start getting all broody on me, are you?" he began to pull at the knot of his perfectly straight tie and slowly loosened it before he pulled it over his head and hung it in the closet. His inquiry was met by silence. "Well then, I'll take that as a yes." He turned to his overnight bag and fished for his shaving kit and a pair of pyjama bottoms. "I really wish you'd just convince her to return to the BAU." Gideon lifted his eyes and met Hotchner's intense stare— he was profiling the older gentleman. "When we first discussed having her on the team, she was everything that we needed."

"Prentiss has been managing fairly well."

"I over heard her speaking with Morgan a while ago. She's questioning what it is that we do."

"You said yourself that Elle had done the same thing not long before the Garner case. Besides, are there not rules that prevent her from returning?"

"Your relationship aside, if any of that does exist, it can always be cleared up." Hotchner headed to the adjoining bath to shower and shave— leaving Gideon alone with his thoughts. He heard the water in the small room and toyed with the cell phone that he had placed on the desk when they had entered the room. It wasn't long before his thumb absently dialled her number and he held the phone to his ear— he waited to hear her voice.

"Hello." Her voice was thick with the sleep she tried to hide from him.

"Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"So good to hear your voice— you wouldn't happen to be working?" he could hear her shifting, the wisp of her sheet and the click of a lamp— she was probably in bed.

"I hope I didn't wake you."

"No, I was just thinking of you." He could hear something in her voice that warmed his heart and he slowly exhaled.

"You do realise that once we're done here, I would like to have at least one uninterrupted date." He sat back in the comfortable seat and shoved the files aside.

"I know that you're not able to divulge information pertaining to your case, so I'm not going to ask specifics. You're okay right?"

"Hearing your voice makes it a lot easier. Thank you for the voice mail, he added through a smile. It really had made it easier to get out of his deep brooding mode and back into Gideon the profiler.

Elle didn't care to hide anything from him, but she couldn't help the itch that the late call had provoked within her— her pulse kicked up a notch and the anticipation that she felt she had lacked in the time up to her near death experience was slowly returning. I suppose, I should have taken an extended leave until I felt this way— rather than out right quitting, she sighed.

"Elle?"

"I'm sorry, my mind was on you."

"I'll touch base with you sometime tomorrow. If I miss you, I'll leave a message. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Jason, you don't need an excuse to call. It's getting late and I'm sure that Hotchner doesn't really want a 'Grumpy' Gideon." She heard his low chuckle, knew that she was the only one who could get away with it. She heard the sound of a door open in the background. "Goodnight." He turned as Hotchner entered the room, hair still slightly damp, it stuck to the back of his neck. His expression pretty much said all that needed to be said. Gideon didn't bother entertaining his colleague, "by the window this time around?"

"I'm fine with the wall." He sat on the double bed, then lay back and spread himself out in the centre with a wide grin. Gideon ignored the smirk that lit the usually darn brown eyes.

"You said that the last time."

"I prefer not having the light shine in my face." He stuck out his tongue. Gideon actually let himself laugh— it felt so good to have a moment of lightness in his life.

"Fair enough." He held his hands up in a gesture that would end their present conversation.

"She worries about you— you know." He slowly sat up and leaned himself against the headboard. Gideon's lips parted as if to say something, but he was unsure as to how to react. "It must be tough on her— tough on you as well. I mean, Haley stays home with little Jack and waits. Hoping that my late night call is me and not one of you telling her that something horrible has happened."

"I would think that Elle has a very different perspective."

"Does she? She's a civilian now— granted I highly doubt that she has lost the FBI agent in her. Her downfall at this point is that she's quite possibly in love with you and the mere thought of anything happening to you scares the crap out of her."

"Why do you suddenly sound like Morgan?" Gideon sighed loudly and stood, walked over to his bag to gather his shaving kit and shorts and promptly disappeared into the bathroom and missed Hotchner's response.

"Because you're in love with her too." He swung his lean legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed the television remote to catch the tail end of the eleven o'clock news. When Gideon finally emerged from the bathroom, Hotchner had two case files open on his bed and was quickly writing notes on a bright yellow legal pad. Gideon didn't say anything, he just turned off the main lights and headed to the double bed beside the window— with the hope of falling into bed and sleep.

—Quantico, Virginia—

After a long drawn out pause, the steady dial tone broke into her thoughts and Elle slowly cradled the receiver. A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips— Gideon's phone call had at the very least assisted in helping set her mind at ease as she was well aware of the monsters that lurked in the darkness. Of course just hearing his voice soothed her worry, but only for a moment as she knew that the dawn of the next morning would most likely have them divided during their search for their un-sub— that had always been the most efficient way to do the job. Once she finally settled herself down, Elle got herself comfortable and pulled the sheets and blanket up over her bare arms and closed her eyes.

The next morning Elle armed herself with a mug of coffee and settled herself at her desk in preparation for tackling the mountain of paperwork that awaited her attention. Her partner, Damian Locke sat in the desk across from hers and was busy with his own paperwork. Sensing her arrival, he lifted his head with a smile.

"Good morning."

"Morning." Her reply reeked of the happy Monday morning to you too variety. She settled herself in her seat and was relieved for the ton of work, which would keep her from going mad. In a swift movement, she opened the top file and scanned the contents before the phone on her desk rang.

"Greenaway." It wasn't quite the same, nor was it a call she had been expecting. Locke watched as the blood slowly drained from her body— her heart had literally fallen into her shoes. She took a moment to compose herself, but only enough to utter the words she knew had to be said. "I'll be there as soon as I can." It was nearly as long as the time it took her to compose herself that she was finally able, with a shaky hand, cradle the receiver.

"Elle?" Locke lifted his head— he had always seen her as strong-willed, emotions in check partner. "Are you okay?" she stared blankly at him. Her expressive eyes held back the flood of tears that threatened to roll over the ridges. When she finally spoke, she felt as though her voice was trapped within her throat.

"Just not what I was expecting." She paused and slowly pushed herself away from her desk, "I have to speak to Sylvan." Locke tilted his head— in that moment, his face caught the light in a particular manner. That combined with his posture reminded her greatly of Hotchner. His dark hair, almost jet black, fell over his forehead in a very similar manner and his eyes held the same intense softness— it had always made things more bearable, yet at this particular moment, not even his softer side could give her the strength she knew she needed. She pulled herself upright and headed to Sylvan's office. Stopping short of entering, Elle gently tapped the metal door frame. Sylvan appeared to be his usually busy self— reading and signing various documents. He paused mid-signature and lifted his head.

"How are things going?" he finished writing and set his pen aside, which gave her his full attention.

"I just got off the phone with Detective Angel Roberts." Her eyes dropped to the floor as he uttered something under his breath.

"Angie mentioned that she might need to get in touch with you. I told her to call me first so that I could break the news to you. In any case, they need your insight and expertise on the case."

"I don't think I can." Her tone was quiet, one that he wasn't used to hearing form her.

"Elle, you are officially our best sex crimes expert." He gestured for her to sit, which she did with a sigh. "Would it help to know that Janelle personally asked for you?" that was the worst thing anyone could have done to her— use a victim to get her to do something that she wasn't comfortable with. "Besides, you have proven to have been invaluable in nabbing that son of a bitch in the fist place." She looked down in thought. "She called me just before you got back and asked if they could borrow you if they needed. I thought that you would be okay with that. I'm sorry that I didn't have the chance to speak with you first."

"I suppose there really isn't any choice in the matter." He watched as she took a deep, cleansing breath.

"There is always a choice. It's just a matter as to whether or not you let him continue to hold that over you." She knew how true his statement was. She had, after all, lived like a victim since she had been raped— never truly feeling that she could trust someone. That was until she met Gideon and everything started to change. Timing was always something that they seemed to miss— Gideon was off working a case and she dare not ask him if he could meet her in New York. The only thing that she could do was give him a call when she got there and hope that she could face her demon— emerge from the pits of hell emotionally in one piece on her own. Of course I can, she thought and drew her shoulders back.

"I suppose I ought to leave as soon as possible." He heard a slight fear in her tone, despite her effort to project confidence.

"He can't hurt you— they have him in custody."

"No bail?"

"No, he was far too much of a flight risk and they were sure that he would rape another young woman." She nodded her understanding. "I've already booked you a train ticket."

"Oh."

"Oh? Elle, what is the matter?" she shook her head. "It doesn't take a profiler to tell that something is troubling you." She immediately darted her eyes.

"I'll be fine." Her reply in a small voice, he leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"Do you need someone to go with you?" she shook her head.

"I'm fine. I'll call you when I get there."

"Be sure to call that Gideon fellow as well." Sylvan smiled warmly. "I'm sure that he'll want to know that you're alright." With a curt nod, Elle stood and made her way to the door. She plucked her jacket from the back of her chair and her purse from the bottom drawer. I'll call him from the station, she thought as she drove home to pack for the trip back to New York. I don't want him to worry about me— he has enough on his plate. She called for a taxi to pick her up and went to her bedroom to pack— having been a member of the BAU had its advantages; packing quickly and lightly. For one. The sooner I get there, the faster it will all be over, she kept telling herself as she headed downstairs to meet the taxi.

—Chicago, Police Department—

The team had survived meeting with detectives Crooke and Walsh, who were both rather upset by their dismantling of the information. Reid had even gone so far as to volunteer to reassemble the boards at the station, but neither believed him that firstly, he had an eidetic memory and secondly, that they had taken snapshots on the off chance that he might be wrong. Prentiss rolled her eyes as she plucked a file from the bunch. Skimming the top page, she grabbed a roll of tape and gestured for Reid's affirmation that she was starting in the correct position. While Crooke, Walsh, and Morgan went off to interview some of the families, J.J. helped Reid and Prentiss with the reconstruction. She thought it would give her a better perspective in creating her press conference.

"We have most of it assembled. J.J., will you be so kind as to connect the various dots?" Prentiss stood starting at the boards in thought. Gideon stood alongside Hotchner and they discussed the various variables— the un-sub's use of signatures. In particular the un-sub's taunting Gideon with the use of quotes from Max Ryan's book.

"He does that just to get to us— show us how smart he is." Hotchner agreed with his usual deep nod— their conversation cut short by the ring of Gideon's cell phone. He fumbled in his pants pocket for the small silver phone.

"Gideon."

"It's me. I can't talk long— I just wanted you to know that I'm on my way to New York." Hotchner watched as his expression went from ultra serious intense to free falling into his sneakers. "I got a call this morning from Detective Angel Roberts."

"I remember her. What could they need with you?"

"Janelle Baxter requested my assistance. I had left my card with her when Prentiss and I went to see her at the hospital. She needs me. It's the least I can do."

"Please keep your objectivity." He nervously ran a hand through his closely cropped hair. "They aren't going to let you interview Reese are they?"

"I'd say that they better not— especially if they want him around for the trial." She quipped.

"Elle." She heard the slight growl in his tone.

"I know. Don't worry about me. I'll probably visit my family while I'm there as well. I'll keep in touch. Call me on my cell."

"You be careful."

"Me? You're the one after some sick psycho."

"I'm not directly involved. Elle, sweetheart."

"Don't worry about me. I'll worry enough for the both of us. Call you later?"

"Okay, I'll talk to you then." With all eyes on him, he sighed heavily. Hotchner clapped his shoulder. "Yes, I know. You were right." He turned and headed out of the room. Finding the break room, he poured himself a paper cup of coffee and headed outside in need of fresh air— in need of a fresh perspective.

—New York—

Meanwhile, Elle arrived at the precinct and was greeting by Detective Roberts and a smile of satisfaction.

"Greenaway."

"Detective Roberts— how is the case shaping up? That is the reason for you call."

"The case itself is coming along nicely, Janelle on the other hand. Well lets just say that I'm worried about her." the young woman, now twenty, was sitting in an office, her chestnut coloured hair pulled into a messy French braid, she wiped fresh tears from her eyes with a white tissue. Elle slowly nodded and headed towards the office.

"Janelle." The young woman turned in her seat and faced her.

"Thank you for coming. You're the only one who seems to understand what I went through. I've tried to explain to the officers what happened." She sniffled and, in an attempt to steady herself, steady her breathing, took a deep breath. Elle set herself on the edge of the desk in front of Janelle. "I know I should be happy to still be alive— they keep telling me that I'm the lucky one, but after what he did to me. How could I ever consider myself lucky? I dream of that night and what that monster did to me and I cannot stop myself from wondering what if, you know?" Elle softened her expression, to show compassion. "What if I hadn't gone to that damn study group. Would he have found another girl to play out his sick fantasy?"

"I imagine that he spent a lot of time watching you. I'm not saying for a minute that what happened to you was your fault— its something so small that you nor anyone else would ever consider leading him on." A shudder went through Janelle and she looked down once more.

"May I call you Elle?"

"If it makes it easier for you."

"He called me by your name." Elle held her hand to her mouth. "I doubt that at that point he even knew that I wasn't you."

"I'm so sorry that you had to go through what you have." Elle gently placed a hand on Janelle's slumped shoulder.

"They want me to testify against him. The DA said that if I did, it would add weight to their case."

"You don't have to do anything that you don't feel comfortable with."

"Elle, what did he do to you?" she gulped in an attempt to conceal her reaction. "Did he rape you too?" it hit the nerve. A slow nod and an expression that she could not hide.

"I was nineteen and left my cousin's birthday celebration early. It happened in my own home, in my own bedroom."

"You're the only one who'll understand what I'm going through." Elle pushed herself off the desks edge, went to the door and closed it quickly. "I want to help, but I'm afraid of having to relive the experience again. Every time I talk about it, it reminds me of what he did to me and how powerless I was." She leaned forward, rested her elbows on her thighs and cradled her head in her hands.

"Did the DA actually tell you how lucky you were?" a nod as she rubbed at her eyes. "That idiot!" Elle spat and stormed towards the door. A brisk walk down the hallway had her outside Roberts' door, none too pleased at that. The blonde, short haired detective raised her head slowly to acknowledge her. "Who is the DA working on this case?"

"Samantha Stewart. My understanding is that she is one of the best. By the end of a trial even a sympathetic jury can be turned onto her side."

"Really?" Elle cocked a brow as she crossed her arms tightly and protectively across her chest. "How important is Janelle's testimony?"

"In this case I don't now if it will be strong enough without it. She is, after all the only one to survive."

"You're looking at the first victim." Roberts' expression changed.

"Statute of limitations."

"I know. What can I say? I owe him my determination to nail bastards like him to the wall."

"Hence your record with the sex crime units that you've worked with. I've also followed your BAU career very closely— I would never have thought that anyone would want to leave that unit. I've heard that agents would give their left eye tooth for a spot on that team. Working with the one and only Gideon must have also been a trip."

"It had its moments."

"Working with Sylvan ranks pretty too high you know?" Elle nodded and leaned causally against the door frame. "Your job is to get Janelle to testify. She's the only one that can say for sure that Reese was her attacker."

"Lucky for him that Gideon wasn't in one of his moods."

"From what I've heard, he watches over his own. Why exactly did you leave the unit?" Elle seemed to freeze up. She hadn't actually given it much thought— at the time, after everything that she had gone through, it made sense.

"I'm sure you heard of the Garner case." Roberts nodded for Elle to continue. "I guess something just happens when you're going through the whole to live or not to live experience."

"You've been through quite a lot— and you're a stronger woman because of it." Elle wanted to say that she had no idea, but a soft knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

"If I testify, will you be there with me?" Janelle's voice was small, yet there was a spark of strength underneath. Elle glanced at Roberts, who beckoned the young woman into her offer, gestured for her to take a seat. "I understand that you might still be afraid of him too, but I thought that if you were with me— I wouldn't mess it up." Her eyes held a slightly amber hint to them— she silently pled.

"When does everything start?" Roberts went through several files to find the needed information.

"If all goes well, pardon the expression, the ball gets rolling with jury selection on the seventeenth of August."

"That's in a couple of days." Elle thought for a moment.

"I've already spoken to Sylvan; he's already willing to let me stay for the trial." She leaned in towards Elle. "I thought that you might want to be here, especially for the verdict." There would be nothing more satisfying than to see the man who took from her a part of herself she could not protect, be put in jail for a very long time. Granted, it wasn't for what had been done to her, but knowing that he would rot in a tiny cell made her feel a bit better. At least she knew that once Janelle had the closure she needed, she too would grow beyond what had happened to her, just as Elle had to and be a strong woman.

"You already spoke to me boss? Well then, I cannot make any promises— Roberts you are well aware of the case load. What I can do is try to be there for you during your testimony— and the conclusion." Roberts nodded her understanding while Janelle thought for a moment.

"Please Elle. It would mean the world to me that you were here." Elle thought for a moment. "I need your help for prep and your strength to help me through." Her nod was met with Janelle's sigh of relief that she wouldn't have to go through the experience alone. "Hopefully it will be a short trail." Elle and Roberts looked at each other— neither wishing to burst Janelle's bubble. It had only been a few weeks since she had gone through her experience— a positive perspective would do the world of good.

Elle entered her hotel room and closed the door with a loud sigh— her mind felt fixated on what Janelle had gone through and what Reese had done to her all those years ago. She wasn't given the chance to stand up to him when they took him in— she felt like a coward; they were protecting, but she felt like a coward nonetheless. I wish I had been stronger— I wish that someone had let me talk to him when they brought him in, not send me to the hospital. Probably for the best— her cell phone rang and she quickly fished it from her purse.

"Hello?"

"How are you my dear?" she felt whatever stress she had been experiencing melt away at the sound of his voice.

"Better now." She replied as she kicked off her shoes and pulled off her jacket before sitting on the foot of the bed. "Wish you were with me." Her sigh filled the empty room.

"I don't know how much longer this case is going to go. If Hotch gives me the go ahead, I can be on the next flight out."

"No, no. That won't be necessary."

"What is it?"

"Janelle wants me to sit through the trial with her. Apparently she feels that I'm the only one who can actually help her through it."

"Elle, I want you to go home."

"Jason, you cannot protect me from Reese forever. In many ways it won't only be Janelle who has the chance for closure."

"I know. So when is the trial?"

"Not until the seventeenth. I'm going to stay in New York for the remainder of the week and help prep her for her experience."

"Please don't tell me that they are planning on putting her on the stand." The silence was enough. "You're alright, right? I'm serious— if you need me just say the word and I'm there."

"You needn't worry about me. I'm actually okay— I just wish I could convince Janelle that she will be too." She heard his gentle laugh. "What?"

"If anyone can convince her of that— it's you." Elle heard his slight yawn.

"Thank you." She thought for a moment. "You better get some rest— chasing bad guys is a very demanding job."

"Hopefully I'll see you on Friday night?" there was a twinge of need in his voice.

"If all goes well with your case. It hardly rests on me you know."

"Perhaps we can hideaway at my cabin for the weekend?"

"That honesty sounds like a wonderful idea."

"Good night Elle."

"Talk to you soon." She closed the line and sighed to the empty room. Deep in thought, she allowed herself to fall back upon the bed and sink into the mattress. I wish I had been stronger— I should have been stronger, she thought long and hard about the differences and similarities of their experiences. Perhaps if I had pushed then, Reese wouldn't have had the chance to murder all of those innocent girls, let alone traumatise Janelle. You're not responsible for the fact that the police were unable to find him— its not your fault, she told herself as she slowly rose and got her nightshift from her bag, went to the adjoining bath to get ready for bed. She had a long day ahead of her.

The week flew by, which Elle was beyond grateful for— she had just finished packing her overnight bag when her cell phone rang. It was hard not to answer it in the official capacity as she had been used to when seeing his name flash on her caller display.

"Hey Hotchner, what's up?"

"I heard that you are in New York. You're okay right?" she knew that he meant emotionally, especially after everything that she had experienced.

"Surprisingly. It's not quite what I expected."

"Glad to hear that. Gideon said that the case will be going to court on the seventeenth?"

"At least that's my understanding. I told Janelle that I would be there for her."

"Sounds just like our Elle." She could hear the smile he no doubt wore. "The reason that I called was that I'm sending Gideon back to Virginia. Thought perhaps he could be there to greet you at the train station."

"Is something wrong?"

"We feel that he needs some time away. Like a vacation, or short leave. Things have been so hectic and he's so much more internal than the rest of us. What time are you getting back?"

"I should be there around seven-thirty."

"Well then, I'll be sure that he's there to greet you. Act surprised to see him."

"Of course. How are Haley and Jack?"

"Doing very well. Thank you for asking." There was a pause. "I have to go— remember, we didn't have this conversation." She slowly pressed the end button and picked up her overnight bag.

The visit with her cousin's parents was exactly what she needed— the warmth of family, which helped her work through a few things that had been plaguing her. Her aunt was always a wonderful cook— had been sure to send her home with a variety of frozen dishes. Sharon's younger siblings— a brother and a sister both were finishing school. Her brother, James, had received a baseball scholarship and was in talks to sign with the Yankees and Brenda was in her last year of med school. How quickly the time flew while she had been out chasing monsters, and yet at the same time, that was what had made her happy all along. Why had it taken a traumatic situation, such as reliving the worst experience of her life— the aftermath far easier to deal with than she had thought to teach her that the BAU truly was her be all end all? A shame it's too late, she thought as she boarded the train that would take her home to Virginia. She closed her little black notebook and shoved it in the pocket of the overnight bag before her eyes slowly fluttered shut— lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the train.

The conductor announced the stop as the train pulled into the station. Along with the other commuters, Elle exited the train— unlike the others, she took a deep breath and felt all of the emotions that she had experienced in New York melt off her. There was no way that she could miss the gentleman that leaned casually against the column— he wore a tender smile and his eyes shone happily to see her. Her expression had indeed been one of surprise.

"Jason!" her exclamation heard over the trains whistle as it pulled out of the station. He opened his arms and she flung herself into his embrace. "I thought that you were working on a case." He cupped her cheek in his warm hand and guided her lips towards his own.

"I was— Hotch knows me quite well and I suppose felt that I needed some time away." He took her overnight bag from her grasp with one hand and wrapped his other around her waist and guided her to his black SUV.

To Be Continued…


End file.
